Page 268 of Things Left Unsaid

As he wraps me in his arms, I close my eyes in the warmth of his embrace.

Anything can happen in this world and despite his words, I know there’s no way to make me safe outside of putting me in an iron lung, but Lindsay was right.

I’m not nobody Zee McAllister anymore.

Neither am I my mother.

Or Marcy.

It sucks, but to a man like Clyde, position is everything and he’s the one who took me from the bottom rung of the ladder and settled me close to the top.

“This is so sweet,” Tee croons, a lot closer than she was before. Colt and I jump when her arms slide around both our waists and she joins us in a group hug. “How do you feel about being my sister wife?”

Despite my nerves, I huff out a laugh. “Wouldn’tyoubemysister wife?”

“I almost regret not being raised on the ranch next door to the Seven Cs.” She pouts then smacks said pout on my cheek in a loud kiss. “You going to kick some creep’s ass, Zee? I think you should. You got a whole new start waiting for you, babe. You need to close this part off. Reclaim it. That dick tried to ruinbothyour lives. Payback’s a bitch when it’s served cold.”

Colt snorts. “Think you’re mixing metaphors, Tee.”

Snootily, she tells my husband, “If the mixed metaphors fit then isn’t it a cocktail of awesomeness?”

I grace him with a pious look. “Well, Colt. Isn’t it?”

“I guess it’s a cocktail I’d be willing to try,” he says wryly.

Tee cackles, smacks him on the cheek with a matching kiss, then shoves me. Because of my current position, it pushes me deeper into Colt’s arms.

Because he’s Colt, he doesn’t falter at the sudden momentum.

He holds me.

Like he’ll never let me go…

“I’ve got you, Zee Korhonen,” he rumbles, the words loaded with meaning.

My voice is back to being croaky, but for a different reason this time as I whisper, “Thank you, Colt.”

“Everythingfor you, baby. Are you ready to talk to the police?”

Anxiously, I nod.

Then, I reclaim my past. My present. And my future.

Zee

EIGHT MONTHS LATER

God Only Knows - The Beach Boys

“Grand-mère?”

The distressed cry has her papery eyelids drifting open. When she sees me, though, a soft smile curves her lips. It’s a smile I saw, more often than not, around Walker. Not me.

The notion has my throat bobbing.

“You came.” Her fingers seek mine. The bones are more fragile than ever. The skin just as papery, revealing bluer than blue veins and bruises too from the IV the nurses put on the back of her hand.

“Of course I did. The boys are on their way. You need to hold on,” I encourage.

---